Wisdom of the Past
by ProbablyQuestionable
Summary: With his options rapidly dwindling, Ozpin uses the Relic of Knowledge to summon the greatest minds he can find from across the universe. It just so happens, that all four of them come from Earth. Can these great, but flawed men save Remnant, or will they fight, argue and despise each other. Each from a different time and background, all they can do is hope for wisdom.
1. Chapter 1

Thunder splintered the tree's around a small house out in the wilderness of Texas, each proud sentinel splintering under the constant assault of the forces of nature outside of it. The sharp whistling of the weather rattled the home, shaking it's proud portraits and works off of its walls.

The first tree to explode had been worrying, the second even more so. But by the time the third struck?

There was no chance to escape.

All around, branches scattered into the wind as constant lightning hit the tree's near their home caused its occupants to quake in fear, their storm shelter within the very foundations of their home rocked.

"George... I... I'm frightened." whispered a woman, elderly and horrified at the carnage outside.

"I am too, dear." muttered George, burrowing his face in her hair as he held her close. They had lived a long life filled with havoc and fear, and George had never seen something so primal in all his years.

Though must have been hours, the furious weather seemed to stop. If George had to guess, it was because every tree within a three mile radius had to have been annihilated. The two of them looked to each other and started to laugh, George not even noticing the portrait of his grandfather in full military regalia staring up at him from where it fell. The portrait frowned as always, and if George had looked at him, he would have remembered his number one lesson.

Always be cautious in victory.

As the two stood up, the sound of a piece of paper tearing sounded right in their ears as heavy thumps and screeching metal sounded right outside their door. The woman screamed in horror as George jumped to his feet, desperately looking around his emergency shelter for anything he could use to defend them. Tearing through his art supplies, he pulled at what looked like his great-great grandfather's officer's sabre.

Instead, it was only a wide-brimmed paint brush.

Wide eyed, George tried to grab ahold of something, anything else. But before he could, the doors and roof of the shelter came torn off, revealing a pitch black sky above the two of them.

"George!" wailed the woman, pointing high above him.

He barely had the time to look up as a bolt of lightning streaked towards him. He shut his eyes, but rather than feel his entire body burn into a crisp, he felt the lightning wrap around him and slowly drag him up into the clouds.

"Oh my heav- George! GEORGE!" the woman screamed. Powerless to do anything.

All Laura Bush could do was watch as the 43rd President of the United States was carried into the sky, white faced and clutching his paintbrush.

* * *

A loaded pistol sat in front of him. High above, the screams of gunfire and man echoed into his hiding spot.

Perhaps, his dream hadn't been worth all of this suffering. Or maybe, the suffering had been what made his trials worth it. Whether he won or lost, the world would better itself.

But that was beyond him now. The screams drew closer, and all anyone could do was think about what had to be done.

Sometimes, those who fought hardest must lose in the simple ways.

The easy way.

Cold steel pushed against his head, eyes still hovering over his fallen wife and daughter in front of him. The lights flickered as a bright flash shone down the hallway.

"Wenn es so sein muss, dann sei es so."

* * *

Victory, it would seem, did not have to come through violence. It did have to be fought for, and with great fury and pride. But violence only bred violence, and through that the weakness of this great country would spread once more.

With a gasp, and the support of an aide, the old weathered man placed his bare feet on the ground, out to the resounding cheers of his supporters and revilers. Many who believed in him raised their voices in pride, while others swore in fury and called him a demon.

Victory, of course, had to have a loser.

But today, for the first time in anyones memory, it would not be his people.

As he placed his foot on the soft, grass of the upraised lawn in front of him, he heard a loud crack. All of a sudden he was falling, screams echoing all around him as people ran too and fro.

He couldn't bring himself to care, for all he could see was the hastily approaching clouds, filled with rain.

"How... odd..."

He slipped into the shadows as rain began to lightly tap his body, a distant voice right next to him crying out:

"He has died, our teacher is dead!"

He couldn't didn't hear the man.

* * *

"To flee would be weakness, Cirito."

"By the Gods, would you not reconsider!?"

"No, for if I back down now, it would be an admittance of guilt. For the world to move past this darkness, I must perish."

"You have many allies, old friend. We could find a way to spirit you away, the guards tonight are particularly greedy and would not be remiss of a few extra coins in their purse. Away with me, tonight!"

"Your kindness does you great justice, dear Cirito. And yet, to flee would be to admit I have anything to fear. The Gods will judge my worth, whether in Elysium or Tartarus I do not know."

"...And this is final?"

"Yes, my friend. I am sorry. But I must."

"I... I understand. For what it is worth, your wisdom will not die with you."

"I am not wise."

"Ha. As you say."

"And Cirito?"

"Hm?"

"Don't forget to sacrifice a rooster at Asklepios."

The door to the cell closed gently shut.

Sat before the man rested a cup of guilt.

Hemlock.

* * *

Thunder raged around Vale, tearing apart the Emerald forest and driving Grimm back for miles on end.

On the floor of an office, lay a cane.

Shattered, the last of its energy fading out.

"Our only hope at this time is for Knowledge." Whispered Ozpin, the feed of Amber's flat vitals still looping on his computer.

"I only hope it brings wisdom with it too."

* * *

 **A/N: A legend begins.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Ouf... my head..." Moaned George, rubbing the side of his head as he sat up and looked around. He was in a brightly lit room, its walls painted a simple green with the bed he lay in being a steel grey. There was pretty much nothing adorning its walls, other than a standard two-handed clock.

After a solid minute of his only companion being the ticking clock, George tossed his weathered feet over the side of the bed and made his way to the door. There wasn't even a handle, and seemed to be a heavily thing made of some hardy metal, not budging an inch when he tried to force the door.

"Aw shucks Georgie, where in the blazes have you gotten yourself stuck now?" he muttered, thumping his foot half-heartedly against his prison. As he swung his foot though, the door hissed and flew upwards, removing his target.

Instead, it thumped right into the thigh high leather boots of an absolutely gorgeous woman. A woman who looked swiftly between her leg and his foot before fixing George with a fierce glare.

"With me, if you please." growled the woman, wiping the small dust stain off her boots as she turned and walked out the door.

George stalled for a moment before stumbling after her, calling out, "Now, uh, wait a minute! Where am I-"

He cut off as he turned into an absolutely massive hallway. The ceiling went so high that the lights seemed distant and almost painted on. On both sides of the yawning hallway, green lights flickered against even greener walls. Same as his room.

"Whoa... now, this is beautiful ma'am." mumbled George. When the woman didn't fix him with a glare, he ventured further. "May I know where I am? And what I'm doing here?"

This time the woman did answer, though she didn't turn to face him, "That, sir, is what we are going to go find out."

"It's George, by the way; Georgie to my friends... hehe..."

"Very good Mr. George." the woman said coldly. When it was clear she wasn't going to offer her own name, George sighed and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, the very same he had been wearing when that wretched storm hit. Inside, he was surprised to feel his hand wrap around the same paintbrush he had taken with him when he was taken by... whatever it was.

She led him right across the hallway, from one door to the next. Though Bush looked down the hall as far as he could go, the lights almost seemed to fade when no one was around it. Unsettled, he hustled behind the blonde through the doorway.

Inside, he was greeted with a surprisingly pleasant break room, with nice beige highlights and off-white walls. Very different from the omnipresent green he had seen so far.

Sat at the table, sipping calmly out of a mug was a man with a head of silver hair in a forest green suit. At the table with him sipping tea was a small and very thin Indian man, as well as a man with a splendid greyish beard and weathered face, distinctly Greek. Both wore togas and sipped at tea.

Though it took him a second, George's mouth dropped when he realized who was sat before him.

"By the ghos- are you by any chance Mister Mahatma Ghandi?" Bush choked out.

"Ah, yes I am child. Are you a follower by any chance? I had always hoped that my teachings would make it to the Americas!" smiled the man fondly, taking a tea bag out from his drink.

"Not a follower, but I'm also a fan of non-violent means. And you!" he cried, pointing to the Greek man. "You must be So-Krates!"

The man chortled, before standing up and bowing his head. "Ah, no my friend, it is pronounced Socrates. I'm sure it's been lost somewhere in translation along the lines. Our friend Ghandi here has just finished explaining that it has been several millennia since my own passing."

"And that, uh, doesn't bother you?" queried George, an eyebrow in the air.

"Eh, time is a false perception."

"And I," the man in green interrupted, standing up, "Am known as Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy. Though you can call me Ozpin, I'd advise using my assistants full professional title, Professor Glynda Goodwitch."

"A great pleasure." Nodded Socrates, while Ghandi flashed a bright smile at the woman.

"Likewise, gentlemen." Glynda spoke, letting a small smile slip out at the pleasant old men.

"Well, my names George!" Bush began, "George W. Bush, former president of the US of A!"

The proud title didn't stun like he had hoped, and though Ghandi nodded in understanding Socrates was visibly perplexed before assuming a neutral face. Ozpin hummed non-committally as though he understood, while Glynda just rubbed her eyes.

"The uh... biggest and best country in all of Earth's history?" came the voice of the somewhat shamed man.

"Biggest?" was all Ghandi got out before Ozpin cleared his throat and moved to stand in front of the trio.

"Seeing as the three of you are now awake, I suppose it's time to begin explaining exactly what has happened here. You are on the world of Remnant, a land in which humanity has been pushed to the brink of extinction. I have heard you speak of this 'Earth', and I must inform you that you are no longer on it. It has never even been heard of."

The trio moved uncomfortably, though Socrates didn't seem overtly phased. Eh. Must have had the shock knocked out him, all things considered.

"Further more, you were not brought here by mere accident. Each of you was brought here by a powerful artifact, called the Relic of Knowledge. It brought the four wisest people from beyond Remnants own veil who could best aid us. From what we understand, it all must have brought you to us at the time of when your own wisdom and knowledge was at its peak, during which you would be best equipped to helping us.

"Assuming we do help you, for whatever reason I simply can't imagine," Intoned Bush, brows furrowed at the knowledge this man had a hand in having his home destroyed and tearing him from the rubble, "what in the world are we even helping protect you from?"

Ghandi and Socrates muttered their agreement and leaned forwards.

"That which has driven us to near extinction: the Grimm. Hideous beasts of pure hate who hunt humans for the sole purpose of killing. They do not need to eat, yet they do anyways. They have doggedly pursued us, and with intelligent and malicious forces at work, these beasts will not remain savage and directionless for much longer. Right now, they poke at our walls simply out of curiosity. However, we are almost certain that the final push is coming, and the tactics as well as strategies applied so far have been useless. That's why you were brought here."

The trio were silent for a while until Ghandi spoke up, "And what is it that we shall earn if we aid you?"

"Well, if you aid me, I could use the Relics of both Creation as well as Time in order to open a portal for each of you to return home to your own timelines. There are several other forces I may be able to bring to bear in order to guarantee this, but only after the war is won."

"Well then, if I'm being blunt Mr. Ozpin, it would seem we aren't being given much of a choice." scowled Socrates.

All the man could offer in return was a sad smile. "For what it's worth, I am sorry."

"Fine, I'll do it. If it's the only way for me to get back home to my wife, then it's what I'll do." said Bush, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up plaid shirt.

"And I as well." Said Ghandi, finally standing with the aid of the table. "To leave a world of our fellow man in such turmoil... it would be unseemly."

"What man would I be if not to go on this journey. What thinker would I be if I said no out of petty spite. What's done is done, hindsight cannot blind the future." agreed Socrates.

Ozpin, for his part, beamed. "Splendid! There are several high valued items I would like you to personally over see in the coming semester in my school. As my students train to fight these Grimm, you will observe them and aid them in any way you see fit. You will participate as any other four man team in Beacon would, but not with the purpose of fighting the Grimm through physical means. You will be the weapons that fights them with the gifts unique to man!"

The trio looked at one another before Socrates spoke up, "Um, that is a bit vague. Perhaps we could speak more of what is expected of us?"

Ozpin, at least, had the decorum to look slightly abashed, "Ah, ahem, yes. That we can discuss in the coming days."

A door in the back of the room, innocuous enough, began to open.

"First though, I wish to introduce you to the final member of your team,"

Out of the bathroom stepped an immaculate man with raven black hair, a slick comb-over and a very avant-garde mustache. In perfect military dress.

"Leader of Team HGGS, or Hugs... Adolf Hitler!"

Wiping at the sweat on his brow, the man finally looked up at the assembled group.

"Was passiert?"

* * *

 **A/N: Our heroes have their first meeting.**


	3. Chapter 3

A clock ticked loudly in the silent room, Ozpin and Glynda watching curiously as both George and Gandhi struggled to respond to the Führer of the Third Reich currently wiping his hands off on his uniform, the very same that Bush had seen in all those pictures of Nazi rallies and speeches growing up.

"I...H-wuh?" Struggled George, hands clenching and unclenching rapidly.

Gandhi simply melted into his chair, eyes wide as he peered into the mustachioed man's eyes.

"Greetings, my good man! Come, take a seat and join our table." Socrates called out, waving a hand at the single remaining seat at the table, right next to George.

"Ah, danke ." Said Hitler, drawing out the chair and plonking down into it, giving Ozpin a smile and a nod as the man poured him a cup of coffee.

Noticing Georges wide eyes and complete internal meltdown, Ozpin patted Hitler on the shoulder. "I take it that Adolf here is quite the figure in your history, isn't he? Well, worry not gentlemen. You'll have time to be get acquainted when you've begun to move into your dorm room. Miss Goodwitch will assist you in finding anything you need in order to make your stay as pleasing as possible. The area we are currently residing in is something of a vault; a personal bunker for my own activities away from the prying eyes of the public and its enemies."

Hitler hummed in agreement, "Ich kenne auch Gewölbe dieser Art. Jeder Mensch hat seine Geheimnisse."

Ozpin gave the man a small smile, "Thank you for understanding the nature of what this is. I would ask that you keep it a secret, as well as anything you see in here. You will be called her around once a month or more in order to provide updates on your stay here as well as any strategies or insights you procure."

"A fine idea, though I will confess much of this technology is beyond me." Socrates admitted, rising with Ozpin and the rest of the table, "It would be most appreciated if an aide, maybe Lady Goodwitch here even, could explain the very basics to me."

"There's no need for the term 'Lady', Mister Socrates." Said Goodwitch, a small smile breaking through her cold exterior. "Miss Goodwitch will suffice, and I would be happy to."

Socrates beamed and stretched his back with a pop, "Well, there's no need to call me 'Mister Socrates' then. Shall we head out? I'm afraid my trip over here was less than comfortable, as I'm sure the rest of these fellows can attest."

Adolf and Gandhi both grunted affirmations, though George still gawked at Hitler with wide eyes, making the man shuffle uncomfortably.

Glynda shuffled them all out into the halls, and Ozpin found time to sidle up next to the slack-jawed Bush. "No shame in being a bit star-struck George. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to be a friend of yours once things have calmed down a bit."

The horrified face swinging his way was all it took for Ozpin to turn to speak to Socrates.

' _What a weirdo.'_ Ozpin thought.

* * *

"And, here we are!" said Glynda, opening the door to a dorm room with a _hiss_. Inside were four neatly pressed and spread beds, each a nice distance apart. Unfortunately though, this led to there being a scarcity of open floor space. "Sorry if it feels tight, normally the students here are a lot smaller than you four. But, you must be virtues of patience and wisdom to have been brought here. I'm sure you'll manage."

"Well, there isn't a great deal for us to unpack." said Gandhi as he pulled himself onto one bed, crossing his legs.

"And I'll do what I can to rectify that once the semester is in full swing." claimed Ozpin, taking a sip from his mug. "I'm sure we can find some extra capital in the school budget."

"Not from your own expenses?" scowled Glynda.

"Beacon and I are one in the same, it's expenses are my own."

"That doesn-"

"Anyways," Ozpin cut off, "As the semester begins, I think it would be best if you four begin school as regular students, getting a feel for the school and this world as it progresses. After about a year, you will take on strictly mentor positions among the faculty."

"An entire year?" questioned Gandhi, "How long do you expect us to remain in this world?"

"I'll be honest with you gentlemen, I'm not quite sure. We must plan for the long term, however, as the foe we face is cunning and as dangerous as the world is old."

"Gibt es Informationen, die Sie uns zur Weltgeschichte geben könnten? Konventioneller Kampf?" Asked Adolf.

"Ah, yes. I'll have Miss Goodwitch send you the relevant documents to your Scrolls once we have them set up. History will be a great tool for you to use, but perhaps understanding combat is even more important. Do any of you have Aura in your homelands?"

"Aura?" Gandhi asked, his face twisting in confusion, "Several religions and groups study the use of Chi and Chakra, though I've not heard of anything like Aura."

"Aura is... well... perhaps it's best to show you. After all, it's best that you have it unlocked before the semester starts. Why don't you all follow me down to the training ring? I'm sure this will be an enlightening experience for us all."

Once again, the group began to shuffle out of the dorm room, who's front door now had the words **Team HGGS** proudly emblazoned on a screen in front of it.

As they walked out of the room, Adolf stopped to raise an eyebrow at George, silent this whole time. Soon, it was just the two of them in the room, and Bush slowly raised his hand to point a finger at the man in brown.

"You... You're Adolf Hitler!? The Nazi?!"

"Uh... Ja?"

"..."

"..."

"Well. Shit."

* * *

 **A/N: Training begins, and the abilities of our heroes will come to light.**


	4. Chapter 4

Hitler barely had any time to react as Bush fell upon him, his slightly wrinkled fists crashing into Adolf's moustache, sending the man stumbling backwards.

"C'mere you facist panda-lover!" screamed Bush, stomping on Adolf's pristine leather boots.

"Schiza!" cursed Hitler, rubbing his mouth with one hand and shoving the former president with the other. "Essen Scheiße, Hund!"

Bush raised his dukes, but a swift kick to his kneecaps by the younger man proved his defence had holes in it. "Wh- I won't eat anything of the sorts, you... you Nazi!"

Staggering, George grabbed a pillow from a nearby bed, Gandhi's, and lobbed it at the mans face. The pillow exploded into a mad burst feathers, flying all over the place as Bush tackled Hitler's waist, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground.

Couching, Hitler blindly nailed Bush straight in the jaw, but George wasn't bested so easily. He was Texas born, and quickly rammed his head straight into the Führer.

"Yee-haw! Take that you-" Bush rubbed his head, wobbling a bit, "Ow... my head kinda hurts..."

"Ah Ha!" shouted Hitler, kicking the man off of him and sending the older man skidding across the floor. Not wasting any time, Hitler tore off one of his heavy boots and threw it right at George's head, nailing the still writhing Bush.

"Don't throw your boots at me, you hog gurgler!" screamed Bush, desperately kicking his legs out at the dictator, who was circling the writhing man with his other boot held tightly in his hand. In his other hand, he held his belt, hastily torn off as a make shift weapon.

Now, a foolish warrior would surge forward to stomp his enemy into the ground, but Hitler had fought in one world war, and then commanded the second. He knew better than to dive for the American, who fought best when furious.

While Adolf looked for his opening, as did Bush. While he writhed, his eyes scanned underneath the bed for something he could use, literally anything.

In a desperate moment, Bush lurched under the bed closest to him, still Gandhi's, and tore a loose metal bar out from underneath the bed. While he did this, Hitler lunged forwards with his boot being swung by the laces.

Bush barely got the bar out in time to block the heavy boot, and narrowly dodged the belt that snapped right past his face. Growling, he swung the bar for the man's chest. With nothing to properly block the swing, Hitler leapt back and out of the way of his foe, only to have the back of his knee's push against the bed next to Gandhi's.

It was a momentary weakness, but that was all that Bush needed, howling as he brought his bar forwards, driving Adolf backwards.

Gasping, Hitler moved involuntarily, feeling his legs giving out against the bed. During his tumble, Hitler dropped his makeshift weapons. Completely defenceless, all he could do was raise his hands to shield his face as Bush swung down with his bar, screaming at the top of his lungs;

"I'm gonna beat you so hard you can't pronounce all the S' in your stupid language!"

As his bar collided with Adolfs hands, instead of searing pain there was a bright flash.

Both were blinded for a few seconds, and when their vision cleared each were equally shocked. Hitler had blocked the furious swing, yet not with his arms apparently. A few millimetres from his arms sat the bar, held back by some mysterious barrier that protected him.

"What in the Sam Hell-" George cut off as Hitler's fist slammed into his mouth.

"Essen Sie es, Sie Cowboy asshaten!" roared Hitler, grabbing the metal bar. The whole bar instantly turned red hot, and Bush barely had time to drop it before the whole thing started sizzling.

George gasped and took a step back from the suddenly frightening Führer, apparently high off his newfound power.

With a sneer, Hitler tossed the bar across the room before racing forwards, his fists smoking as he launched a flurry of punches at Bush. Instead of his own bright light flaring to protect him, all George got was a series of meaty thwacks to his mouth as he fell on his rear.

Before he could even start moving again, Hitler sent a sharp kick straight into his head, launching George into a bed-frame.

"Ertrag, Sie täuschen!"

"I'll never surrender to you... you monster! I'll never follow you either!" George spat, snarling as blood dribbled out of his mouth.

Hitler didn't say a word, instead rearing back his hand for a final punch, aimed right at the weak and immobile George's throat. George looked straight at the man, knowing that the monster never had any compunctions about killing in the least.

Just as Hitler's fist flickered forwards, a hand lashed out and grabbed his arm, throwing Adolf backwards. Socrates lifted one hand in front of both of them, though he kept his eyes locked firmly on Adolf.

The two stared hard at each other for a minute, neither making a move. Eventually, Hitler relaxed his stance and stormed out of the room, his still smoking hands clenched at his sides as he pushed past the rest of the group.

Glynda fixed a disapproving glare at George, who was only now finally picking himself out of the wreckage of a bed. Gandhi shook his head, frowning slightly at the disaster of a room.

Ozpin sipped on his coffee.

"So... I suppose you weren't star-struck then?"


	5. Chapter 5

Georges eyes slowly eased open as a beam of light struck him right in the face.

"Aw drat. Is it mornin' already Laura?" mumbled Bush, his hand instinctively searching for his wife. When he didn't feel her there, is eyes opened fully and remembered exactly where he was.

Sitting upright in his bed, George looked around his still barren dorm room. Gandhi was an early riser, and though his bed had clearly been slept in it was obvious it had been abandoned since the early hours of the morning. Socrates was still snoring away peacefully, but his bed was on the complete other side of the room. He barely even owned anything, despite the money Ozpin had given to them nearly a month ago.

The fact that he was still sleeping in the same toga they had arrived in was telling.

And the last bed in their room was empty. As it had been since Bush attacked its occupant.

Though the fact that the Nazi wasn't within striking distance of him was pleasant, any comfort he got from that was completely pointless with the knowledge that he could be doing basically anything and Bush would have no clue about it. He only ever saw him during combat training and that was... awkward. He heard that Glynda was teaching him to speak low-Valean. Apparently, he was speaking High Atlesian, though it all sounded English to Bush.

Sighing, Bush swung his legs out of his bed and slowly stood up. His age didn't make such physical exercise very pleasant, and Glynda's training even less so. Even the air force didn't put a man through the paces like she did.

His creaking bones aside, Bush wasn't going to let such downers ruin his perfectly good day. After all, today was the first day of school.

Bush stepped out into the Beacon docks, stomach not nearly fully enough from the spartan breakfast he managed to scrounge up from the cafeteria.

At his side rested two revolvers, two thicker and bulkier versions of his Pappi had taught him to use. He wasn't a crack shot, but after the countless hours of time down at the shooting range, Bush could confidently say he wasn't defenceless.

Though, as the massive transport ship holding his fellow classmates cut through the clouds, he could only hope it had been enough.

"Ah, I see you've also come to meet our compatriots?" came a voice from behind him.

"Oh, it's you." Bush turned to see the smiling face of Gandhi, munching on a single fruit like he did every morning."

"Indeed. It's all rather exciting is it not? I haven't been in a school since my days as a lawyer, so I am quite intrigued with the idea."

"Despite the fact that you haven't come to a single training session since you had your Aura unlocked?" Bush asked with a roll of his eyes.

If Gandhi had noticed, he certainly didn't show it, contentedly munching on his fruit.

It had been a bit strange for the first few days, being around dead men and all, but once he saw Glynda throw a rock with a riding crop it all seemed easier to absorb.

Dead men, turning your soul into a force-field, giant monsters and alternate dimensions?

Bush hadn't been president for eight years without learning to accept some crazy things.

"Don't you worry about me," Gandhi responded, "I can look after myself. Taken more beatings than anyone I know and I turned out just fine!"

Bush couldn't help but smile at the man's enthusiasm, though the knot in his stomach didn't unravel like he had hoped it would.

The ship came closer and no further conversation extended between the two of them. It was always like that though. No one really talked all too often in their team. He preferred to wander the city, Gandhi wandered into the wilderness, Socrates waxed philosophy with Ozpin and no one wanted to know what Hitler was doing.

Though, as he saw the teeming mass of teenagers with their faces pressed up against the glass of the view ports, he couldn't help but wonder if avoiding each other was going to work quite as well.

With a loud clunk the ship settled into the wide berth of the docks, pouring students out into the courtyard. The duo backed away to from the front of them as Glynda and some of the other staff took charge of the students and began directing them towards the auditorium on the far side of the school grounds.

More than a few kids stepped out looking completely awestruck, while others seemed uncertain and confused by the intense hustle and bustle of arriving at the school.

"Do ya' think we should give a hand to the little ki-" Bush started, before a loud explosion sounded across the courtyard.

"Aw crud, what in the world?" shouted Bush even as Gandhi ran ahead of him towards the source of the explosion.

The duo came across a lady with snow-white hair stalking off and away from a short girl sitting in a crater. Bush saw her frustration and embarrassment on her otherwise unhurt body, and stepped forwards to offer a hand, unwittingly stepping in front of a scraggly blonde boy trying to do the same.

"Hey there, little lady. Need a hand?" He asked, stretching his hand towards her.

"O-oh... thanks!" She said, though her eyes never left his waist. More specifically the weapons hanging off his sides.

"Uh... are you alright?" Asked Bush, already uncomfortable with the woman's line of sight.

She seemed to snap out of a daze, face turning bright red as she looked into his eyes. "Oh geez, I'm so sorry for the damages, sir! I know it's only my first day, but please don't let this reflect poorly on me in your coming classes, I'll fix it my-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses! I'm not a teacher, at least not yet!" said Bush, his rough calloused hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

The physical contact made her completely lock up, even as she smiled with relief. "Oh, you're not? Thank the brothers. I was afraid I was going to get expelled already! And my sister wasn't even here to help if I was!"

George had to laugh at the little spit-fire. She sure had more energy than the rest of the coots he was spending his time with.

"Well then, I think you're doing a pretty good at it on your own so far. Just try not to explode again, huh?"

The girl drew her red hood up over her eyes and groaned in horror at the first impressions she was already making.

"Come on now, no need for that. What's your name?"

The hood stayed on her face, though she stopped groaning. "Ruby. Ruby Rose."

"And I'm George W. Bush. Call me George though, it'd be weird otherwise."

"Okidokes! You got it George! Now... do you have any idea how to get to the auditorium from here? If I'm lucky, I can find Yang and give her a smack in the head for ditching her poor sister!"

The two wandered off, chatting amicably as George heard her fawn over her own weapon for nearly the entire walk there.

"So what's your weapon called?" She asked.

In response, Bush tore the two pistols free from their holsters and spun them.

"I call em' Walker and Jeb... After the two people who would always look after me."

"Whoa... they sound cool, I'd love to meet them one day!" she hummed, before losing her mind over a fire sword being swung in the distance.

" _At least one person in this school has some life in them._ " Bush thought.

* * *

Jaune sighed as he watched the older man wander off with the cute girl he had been planning on helping.

"Aw... and she seemed so nice too!" Jaune pouted, knowing that the odds of him finding someone who seemed as lost as him was nearly impossible now that she was gone.

Maybe he could just tag along behi-

A loud swoosh through the air behind him startled him out of his thoughts and caused him to yelp as a golden blade swung past him, narrowly missing him as he leapt out of the way.

"Jeez! What are you trying to do, kill someone?" Jaune whimpered as he turned to face his would be attacker. Instead, he came face to face with an older gentlemen in brown cargo pants and an equally pocket-coated shirt. He looked impressed with the fact that Jaune had somehow managed to not get split straight down the middle.

His black hair was slicked to one side, and his small moustache perfectly cropped above his lip. It went perfectly with his snazzy black tie, but Jaune's eyes were inevitably drawn down towards the weapon that had almost split him in half.

Buried into the ground was the tip of a large golden wing, which connected to a golden eagle with another wing on its other side, forming a kind of battle axe. Right below the head of the eagle was a circle emblazoned with an X, detailed with lines like a pinwheel. Connected below that was a long black pole, held firmly in his slightly wrinkled hands.

The man, however, said nothing, instead just staring right into Jaune's soul with his azure eyes.

"Uh... do I know you?" Jaune asked, still shaking at the man's powerful gaze.

"Nien, my son." Came his answer as he tore his blade from the ground and hefted it onto his shoulder. "But an Aryan such as yourself? You surely will in time."

He wrapped his arm around Jaune's shoulders, and the blonde soon felt himself being guided in the same direction as the girl from earlier.

"W-what... What's an Aryan?"

The man laughed.

"The future, my son."

* * *

 **A/N: That's right. I'm back you hooligans. Think this story was dead? Impossible.**


End file.
